Dragon Eggs and Mermaid Scales
by Bloody Fox
Summary: Snippets of fics, both x-over and not, that are Harry centric.
1. For the Money

_A/N: This is a collection of oneshots that are Harry (Harry Potter) centric, containing x-overs. Props to Evandar's __Lacewings and Boomslang__ for the idea of doing this as a writing exercise. Suggestions/ideas welcome, appreciated, and likely necessary. ^^ Hopefully these will help get me back into the swing of things._

_Harry Potter/Mass Effect_

_For the Money_

He was watching over the crowds, or rather, part of the crowd. And what an unusual crowd it happened to be. It looked to be a crew, quite possibly pirates – though what a pirate would be doing here, he wasn't sure. A drell, quarian, turian, krogen, two humans, one of which had vast biotic abilities. What a motley bunch, he mused. It made him more curious when they turned straight for him in his secluded corner.

He merely leaned back as they took up positions across from him, also blocking any escape that he might attempt. He leaned back, tapping his fingers along the back of the seat, and looked at them.

"And how may I help you?" He asked easily. They weren't the first group to approach him. He was quite the mercenary after all.

"Harry Potter?" The woman who Harry now named the leader asked.

He smiled at her. "If you aren't sure, then you shouldn't be asking."

"I'm Commander Shepard. I've come to ask you along to help us."

"Ah, help with your little Reaper problem." He said with condescension. "And what are you offering?"

"A pardon."

Harry barked a laugh, his eyes flashing red for just a moment. "No, no. You'll have to do better than that. As you can see, the only ones stupid enough to take my bounty, aren't smart enough to pose a challenge."

Especially not since he'd hit his five-hundred sixth year. Not to mention that little bit of some_one_ extra who had tagged along for the ride.

"What do you want, then?"

"I want what every mercenary wants, Shepard. Money. Lots and lots of money. Cash, of course." And he smiled at her, showing too many teeth.


	2. Cursed

_Harry Potter/Temeraire_

_Cursed_

It was the first time Laurence had laid eyes on the beast. He was a black as Temeraire, though he lacked the graceful Chinese ruff and tendrils. He wasn't big enough to be a heavy weight, but it was possible he was wrong, with the way the dragon was curled onto itself into an impossibly tight ball, snoring just slightly. He must have made a noise because the dragon lifted its head and looked at him with brilliant green eyes.

"And which are you?" He asked.

"I am Captain Laurence on Temeraire."

"The Chinese dragon." He said. "I must ask, Captain Laurence, how did you find this place?"

"Find?" Laurence looked around. "I merely walked from the lake."

The dragon then stood and made its way closer. Laurence noticed that its body was different from a number of others he'd seen. It was long, sinuous, and snake like. There was a mane of fur trailing from the crest of the head to the tip of the tail, and it's limbs were fairly short as compared to the length of the body. But perhaps the most noticeable difference, or lack, was that there were no wings upon it.

A chuckled from it ruffled his hair, and Laurence stepped back, realizing how close it had gotten. He could see amusement shining in its gaze. "I do not need wings to fly."

As if to demonstrate the whole of its body lifted completely from the ground with no visible effort.

"You have a touch of destiny around you." The dragon said, forming coils around him with its body.

"What are you?"

The dragon chortled this time, and it lacked that gruff tone that all dragons seemed to have. It was a surprisingly human sound. "I am cursed. Same as you, I suppose."

"I don't believe in curses." Laurence stated firmly.

The dragons face so neared his that he was only a breath away from the scales of it's nose. "Men of destiny and fate are always cursed, but perhaps, not so much as I am. And perhaps, your dragon, your Temeraire, can help me with mine."

There was a bellow of Laurence's name, and the two of them looked up to see Celeritas.

"Step away Harry."

The dragon, now identified as Harry, did so with a laugh, crossing the clearing again to curl into a ball, not even watching them go.

Laurence followed Celeritas away.

"It would do you well to never go there again."

Laurence hesitated for a moment, curiosity arguing with reason, before he spoke. "May I inquire as to why?"

"Harry is... he is a mad dragon."

"Mad?" Laurence asked.

"We do not know how or why, or even any of his history before he came to us. All we know is..." Celeritas stopped and shook his massive head. "Best not to discuss this. It is for your health that you do not go there again, especially on your own."

The great dragon started walking on again, leaving Laurence alone on the path between the Loch and Harry.


	3. Death

_Harry Potter/Gundam Wing_

_Death_

There was a flash of shadow over one of the many bodies on the floor. Heero just happened to glimpse it, barely, out of the corner of his eye. He whipped around, his pistol already drawn and aimed for where the movement had been. There was nothing. Heero scanned the room slowly, his eyes moving almost opposite his gun as he tried to looking into the heavy darkness of the room. Another splash of moving shadow had him turning again.

"You can see me?" The whisper was full of some kind of surprise, but Heero was to focused, to intent on finding whoever it was to wonder at what that meant.

"Show yourself." He ordered, and no one appeared.

He couldn't say that he was shocked. There were four bodies on the floor, all dead at his hand, and who would want to appear before the man who'd killed them all with cold efficiency. Another ripple of darkness, this time accompanied by the shuffle of clothes, and Heero questioned why he hadn't heard them the first time.

"You smell like gunpowder." The voice said smoothly into his ear, warmth breath fanning across his cheek.

A small hand caught his wrist, and the body shuffled away from his kicks.

"Feisty. It's been a while since I could play with the living." And then there was a head resting on his shoulder. "But you smell like death too, so I shouldn't be surprised."

Heero finally caught his attacker with a sharp elbow, allowing him to stumble away and catch sight of the other. He was smaller than Heero and looked about the same age, if not younger. A cloak was draped over his shoulders, parted in the middle so that Heero could see civilian clothes, tattered though they were, beneath it.

"Who are you?" Heero asked, his aim not wavering for even an instant.

The other laughed. "You should already know my name; you can see me, after all."

Heero didn't have time for games, or much of anything really. It wouldn't be long before a patrol was due to come by, and they would discover the bodies. He needed to be gone before then. Whoever this was, would just have to be his scapegoat. Anyone who came across the scene would hopefully think that this boy and the four men had all killed each other.

So Heero shot, aiming for that scarred forehead. The other's head snapped backwards, opened mouthed, and teetering on the edge of balance. He knew he had hit his mark, which was why he was so surprised when the other stood again, bullet sounding with a 'ting' as it hit the floor, and almost frowned at him.

"Well that wasn't nice." He huffed. "I have to do half your work and you go off and shoot me."

Heero shot again. And again. And again. All of it with the same results.

"What are you."

The cloaked boy laughed again. "You already _know_." He said, as he leaned over one of the bodies and pulled something from it. It glowed and bobbed gently, as if it were resting on waves, and then it wavered, dimmed, and finally disappeared. Voices in the hall drew their attention. Three, probably more. Heero's hand tightened around his gun. Three more was going to be cutting it close.

"Not today." The boy said, sweeping up behind him, wrapping Heero in thin arms. "You're one of my favorites."

Suddenly they were outside, the building Heero had just infiltrated far enough in the distance he could only just see the lights that surrounded it. Those thin arms were still around his waist, head once again resting on his shoulder. The boy hummed quietly, barely audible under the sudden sound of piercing sirens and bright spot lights.

"Did you know that you can't kill Death, Heero Yuy?"

Then the arms faded from around him, the weight on his shoulder disappearing with it.

"See you soon." He whispered before he was completely gone.

Heero was unsure whether or not he should be worried about what that meant.


	4. Adventurer

_Harry Potter\Skyrim_

_Adventurer_

Harry smiled just slightly as he took a swallow of the ale. The stories these travelers tell, he mused silently. There were children from the village gathered around one man in particular who seemed to tell the most exciting stories. About the dovah and dovahkiin and about how a thu'um could change the world.

"To be able to travel again..." He said aloud, thinking about his journey from Britain all the way to Skyrim. It had been a journey, to be sure.

"You were a traveler, mister?" A little girl asked, looking up at him with bright blue eyes.

"I used to be an adventurer," He admitted. "But then I took an arrow to the knee."

_A/N: No, I can't believe I wrote that either. ;)_


	5. Toxic

_Harry Potter_

_Toxic_

There was a certain charm to Tom Riddle, Harry was sure, but damn if he could discover it. Tom – as it had been many, many years since he'd called the man by that ridiculous anagram – was a constant source of advice, annotation, and annoyance. It was more often the latter two than the first, but there was just something that worked about having the most well-known megalomaniac psychopath sharing head-space with the boy-who-saved-the-world.

Though he was sure that everyone else would disagree. Mostly everyone.

"Lucius," Harry purred. "What is on the agenda for today?"

"We cornered Ronald Weasley and his small group yesterday. Their executions are scheduled for lunch.

:_They breed like rabbits. We've slain seven and still more crop up.:_

Harry hummed absently. "And Bulgaria?"

Lucius winced. "Still no word, my Lord."

_:I recall this obscure curse I learned in Albania...:_

"_Pritini Magji"_

Some would probably say that their relationship, if it could be called such, was toxic. Harry thought that it worked out well for the two of them.


	6. Infection

_Harry Potter_

_Infection_

The fire roared over the castle, a bright, writhing dragon rising up and crashing down through the roof. The upper portions collapsed inward, and the flames jumped higher, filled with chimera and lions and all manner of nameless creatures. Hermione watched with her hands clasped over her mouth in horror, pale even in the warm glow. Her eyes fell to her best friend just a few paces ahead of her, staring at the castle.

"Harry? Harry what have you done?"

He turned around, his head down so she couldn't see his face, and started walking to the forest. The creatures would have fled by now, and the infected wouldn't be very quick over rough roots. "We need to go."

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled. "What have you done?" She shouted.

He spun towards her. "What do you think I've done!" It wasn't a question. "Do you know what it would mean to leave this place standing with... _them_ crawling the halls? Everyone who survived would come here. _Everyone_, Hermione, and they would be walking right into a death trap."

"They're our friends!"

A brief, pained expression passed over his face. "Not anymore. They were dead. Now, get a move on." He pulled her with him.

"But what about the fiendfyre? It will spread."

"The wards around the area will contain it." He pulled her faster, nearly dragging her. It didn't matter how many obstacles were between them and the infected if they weren't running.

"Hogsmead is in the wards!"

"Hogsmead was lost last week! There is no one left here, and we were lucky to get out alive, lucky to not end up like the rest of them!"

"Harry!" She screamed at him, and he looked up at her finally.

"Look at me Hermione, and tell me I didn't fucking try!"

There was a line of ragged scars down his face, from Ginny's nails when she'd jumped from the bed and tried to eat him. There was almost a matching set across his abdomen, a little larger, as well, she knew, when Ron... When Ron... After that, Harry had quit trying to save them, realizing how futile it was. He understood before the teachers had. He understood how fast it would spread. One, then two. Four. Just doubling every time. Epidemic. Pandemic. They couldn't stop it. Fire worked. As did massive head trauma, but no one knew what caused it. They just knew that it spread. Virulently. Through the blood and saliva.

"Where will we go?" She asked, following him along as silently as she could.

"Anywhere for now. We'll need to avoid places like Diagon or London. I can only imagine the hell there."

She didn't want to imagine it. "What will we do?"

"Survive." He stopped and turned to her, grabbing her shoulders gently. "This is horrible, Hermione. An awful thing like this should never happen, but it has, and I need you to help me out. I'm a fighter, but your the planner."

"I'm the researcher." She sobbed. "Ron was -"

"Stop it." He scolded. "Ron's not here anymore, and we can't... I'm sorry." He took a step back and started walking again. They needed the essentials. Food, water, shelter, and warmth. Those came first. Now, if only there were a secure place to stay, at least for tonight.


	7. Brotherhood

Harry Potter/Elder Scrolls Oblivion

**_Brotherhood_**

.

Harry pulled the knife from the heavy set and now limp body. Vernon seemed to sink deeper into the mattress next to his equally still wife. Crimson spread out from beneath the pair, dying the sheets red. Harry took a step back, staring at them. It was strange. His uncle had seemed so intimidating before. But now... He looked at the blood-stained knife in his hand. He wasn't any harder to kill then the mice that needed exterminated from the garden in the back. It was quick and simple. Easy.

Remorselessly, Harry turned on his heel and headed out of the quiet bedroom, and into the only other occupied on. Dudley was a heavy sleeper, he wouldn't have woken from the near silent sounds that had come from his parents rooms – the thunk of meat being cut or the grunt and sigh of his mother's and father's final breaths. Harry stood next to the boy's bed, looking down at the snoring lump. He raised the knife and hesitated. He took a quick step back, and then folded his shirt up, wiping the blood and any evidence of him from it. He chucked it beneath the bed. It would, un-doubtedly end up stuck to or in something. With great care, he wiped the blood from his hands onto the hem of a dirty shirt.

Harry had never seen much TV, but he had heard a lot through his cupboard door. Petunia had liked her crime drama, and Harry had learned a little just listening to it. DNA. Fingerprints. He wouldn't say he was smart, but he would like to think he was a little clever for a boy of seven. It took some forethought to have premeditated murder after all.

With that, he turned and left the house, disappearing into the night and knowing with absolute certainty that he would never be back. When he felt far enough away, he stripped out of his bloody clothes, tossing them into a bin at the curb, and redressing as he moved. It was going to be a long time until morning.

..

"You sleep soundly for a murderer."

Harry jolted awake at the voice, sitting up up from his place curled against the jungle-gym. He looked up at the man who had spoken. He was cloaked in heavy robes with a hood drawn up to shadow his face. He didn't fit into this neighborhood, or really, anywhere outside of some convention.

"I've traveled a long way to speak to you; one so young."

Harry stayed silent, glaring almost defiantly up into the man's hazel eyes.

"I am Lucien Lachance, and I've heard much about you, Harry Potter."

"You know my name."

"Oh, I know much more than your name, dear child."

Police sirens suddenly sounded. Harry jerked his head towards the noise. Lucien chuckled.

"Come along now. This is no place for us murderers to lay about." He held out his hand.

"Us?" Harry asked, gazing at that pale hand.

"Indeed. You and I, we're cut from the same cloth you see."

Harry slowly reached out. This would be life changing, he knew, far beyond the other things he'd done this night or would have done in the future. He looked up into those eyes and that cutting smile. Nothing would ever be the same. He would change all the rules.

"OK." And he took that hand and they were gone.


	8. Signed in Blood

Harry Potter/Black Butler

_**Signed in Blood**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

It should have been dark. Death had always been dark before; more pitch the closer he stepped to it, and senseless when he was only a breath away. So why was it all hues of gray this time? Why was it gently raining soft, downy feathers? Hadn't he passed?

"You have summoned me. What is it you wish?"

He turned his head to the voice, realizing that he was still cloaked, barely, in his tattered and blood-stained robes. The wounds on his body were still there, but the flow of blood had been halted, pooling at the edges of the gapes in his flesh as if time had frozen.

"Your wish?" It asked again.

Harry looked at it. A black bird, a crow, was perched on a single branch that rose from the feathers that had collected around him and spread as far as he could see. And it was asking for his wish. He had called, and the crow answered.

"Revenge."

It chuckled, though the bird itself did not move. It – he? It sounded like a he. - simply stared at him. Harry wondered what he was thinking, for the crow was obviously in thought.

"Once you've rejected faith – God – it shall be impossible for you to pass through Heaven's Gates."

The bird eventually offered, and there was, some how, a smile in that pervading voice that echoed in the world around them. Harry blinked at the creature. Faith? God? What did he care for that? Where was God when the Death Eater's and Voldemort took him? Where was He when the Ministry took him back?

"There is a reason I called to _you_ and not _Him._" He told the crow.

Laughter rained around him like so many falling feathers.

"Then I shall ask you only once: Is it thy wish to form a Contract."

There was something creeping over his skin. He couldn't see it, but it was there, like cool hands. There was a weight to the presence, making it so much unlike a ghost touch. He had a feeling that it was judging him, as if it were looking inside for something that only it could find. He looked into those beady, black eyes, and found power within them.

"Form the contract and grant my wish!"

And, while there was that expected echo of his own voice slipping away into the void, there was another right along side it. The crow was laughing again as the world of white feathers rose around them, swirling to black and obscuring the crows form, sending him back into the world where the rest of him lay.

..

His eyes snapped open, and he was staring up at high, dark ceilings. His twisted, dirty robes slid from his body as he stood, pushing himself from the table he'd been laid upon. Magical instruments around him whirred in a high tone before abruptly falling silent as he stepped completely from the table, but he paid none of them, or the bodies at his feet, any mind. His eyes were all for the man who was bowed before him, arm crossed over his chest, his head held low.

The man – if he was indeed a man at all – finally looked up at him, and looking into those mahogany colored eyes, Harry knew his wish would be granted. He also knew that he wouldn't regret the price he payed for it. He may never be able to see his parents or Sirius or anyone else who died, but the quiet of his own mind, the silence of his souls screams, meant more.

"What's your name?"

He asked even while he turned away, and raised his hand to his face, stopping just short of touching his now dead eye. It wasn't a great loss; his magic could compensate and what it couldn't do, the demon before him could. Small sacrifices for great wishes. And the cost of his soul...

"I go by many," He offered. "I'm often given a new name by my new master."

"Pick which ever you like, I've no desire to pick one for you."

Harry ordered absently. He shucked his robes and pulled a fairly clean set from one of the recently dead that was about his size. He froze when the demon stepped up to him, pulled the robes from his hands and wrapped and buttoned them around Harry's nude body.

"Sebastian Michaelis." He smiled an empty smile. "And I am one hell of a butler."

"Is that how I should introduce you?" Harry asked with a raised brow.

"A butler isn't introduced at all." Sebastian informed him.

Harry clicked his tongue and looked down to the man who was now slipping shoes on his feet. "That may have worked before, and with someone else, but the people around me have a vested interest in everything I do and everyone I interact with."

"Yes, the wizards' Savior and defeater of the Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"You know quite a bit." Harry said blandly, pulling the robe a little tighter around his wounded body.

"Even in the underworld there are whispers of your story and his."

"Should I be concerned that demons are apparently gossiping about me?"

"No more than usual, my lord." Sebastian swept him up into his arms and headed out the room. "Where to, my lord?"

"Hogwarts." And then the demon was leaping through the corridors and out of the Unspeakables facility.

..


	9. Vast

Harry Potter/Chronicles of Riddick

_**Vast**_

"Where do I get eyes like that?" It was the first time in many, many years Harry had seen something new. The eyes he was looking into were shining quick-silver, shimmering in the darkness.

The scent of blood was thick on the man, and though Harry was pinned to a wall by the throat, he wasn't fearful. It was hard to be afraid when you were immortal – or already dead- he wasn't sure which. The muscles in the others forearm tensed, and Harry could practically smell the sadness and loss on him.

"How did you get on my ship?"

Harry cocked his head, unsure of how to answer. He'd actually been spaced, shot from an air-lock by a mutinous crew that seemed to fall under the impression that he was a demon. Though to be fair, he did get back up after being shot in the head. At least they hadn't tried to kill him with fire like that group on that one moon. The heavy, but brief, crush on his windpipe brought him back to the present.

"I came in through the airlock."

He could literally feel the incredulity coming off the man.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You think that I either stowed away or managed to get a ship here and gone without you noticing? It would be kind of hard to do, considering how small this frigate is." Harry tapped the man's arm. "Could you let me down. I'm unarmed."

He was dropped roughly and the other stepped away.

"Harry Potter, pleased to meet you."

"Riddick." The man answered, and Harry got a good look at the knife in one hand and the gun in the other.

"So Riddick," Harry said, brushing himself off. "Do you need a crew mate to cross the vastness of space?"

The man scoffed and turned away. Harry didn't think it would be that easy- and indeed it wasn't- but at least he wasn't explaining how he lived through a slit throat. Perhaps the day was looking up?


	10. Archangel

_Might see more of this cross for a while. Renewed interest in the series, playing the games again. If there's anything you want to see or if you want to offer a prompt, feel free._

Harry Potter/Mass Effect

_**Archangel**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

"Mother Fucker," Harry hissed, sliding down behind cover and dragging the now limp body with him.

The spray of gunfire overhead and against his cover made him, once again, wish he could get control of his 'saving people' issue. The turian was in rough shape, and if they didn't get out of this soon, they'd both be dead. Harry peeked around the edge launching a spread of sub-machine gun fire, taking down a couple. Then the heat-sink popped and the gun clicked empty. Today just seemed to go from bad to worse. At least the turian had a gun. Harry looked it over quickly. A few mods he didn't understand, but nothing he would have a problem with. He swung the rifle up and picked them off until they fell back. At least the Blue Suns were tactical enough to recognize the need for retreat. Blood Pack would have just kept throwing themselves against the opposition until they either all died or won.

"Now for you, big guy." He pulled the turian upright as well as he could and struggled to his apartment, with only a discreet feather light spell to help him along the way.

..

Garrus woke with a gasp, jerking up only to be pressed back down.

"Quit moving. Those patches aren't exactly professional grade."

"Who?"

"I said quit moving."

Garrus finally realized that the light tingling in his chest was actually some kind of medi-gel at work and looked down. There were a few good bullet holes, no real penetration, thanks to his armor, but two had been lucky shots, sliding in between the plates on his body. Garrus looked up to the face of his doctor. A human. On Omega. Well, those didn't last long, was his first thought.

"I'm Harry. Pleased to meet you, now that you're conscious."

"Garrus." He answered. "Glad to be conscious."

"So, what exactly were you tripping on that made shooting up a Blue Suns deal seem like a good idea."

"I was trying to stop that shipment." Garrus huffed.

"Oh, you're crazy then." Harry sighed. "Suppose I should have left you. Too bad I can't help myself."

Harry poured some more medi-gel on the wound and packed it.

"You're all set, I suppose. I fixed what I could of your armor, gathered up a few heat sinks for your rifle, and spread around a nice nick-name to lure people on a wild goose chase. Suppose that since you're an apparent vigilante, it's going to be _your_ nick-name."

"Nick-name?"

"Yup. Omega's resident hero, Archangel." Harry said with a grin. "Try to avoid the bullets next time. I might not be around to save ya."

Garrus snorted, surprised and pleased. Anyone else in this forsaken place would have let him bleed out in the street. He was glad to come across the one in a million who hadn't.


	11. Bloody

Harry Potter/Mass Effect

_N: Ageless – not immortal- Harry_

_**Bloody**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

He'd escaped to Omega to rid himself of responsibility. Just like a number of other people. Funny how these things worked out. He was dancing with the grind of bodies that was always present in Afterlife, some chemical cocktail swimming through his blood that was just as likely to kill him as not. He was hot. The floor was swaying back and forth, and the light were flashing hues that he was sure wasn't possible. He could have overdosed, Harry thought numbly, body still lost to the music.

It was only when the whir of the world around him began to slow and he felt himself coming down from his high that he left the club behind to head for his apartment. Not that it was much of one. A run down shack among many run down shacks. He fit right in with the décor anymore. Dirty, old, used, and broken. Story of his very long lived life.

There was a sudden commotion off to the side, and he darted into an alley away from the noise. He didn't want to be involved. The alley was empty save for a trash compactor that had a body carelessly hanging over the edge. Gunshots echoed in the small space, and there was a choked off cry of some pour soul that had been wounded. Then there were even more shots. It sounded more like a battle now. Probably a turf war. Damn mercenaries.

Harry grasped the wall for support as he suddenly stumbled, hand going up to his chest and coming away red. It didn't hurt much at least. He collapsed to his knees and then to the dirty, hard ground, face pressed into the grime. Had he been able, he might have wheezed out a laugh. As it was, now he was just a part of the statistics – another bloody body in Omega's filthy streets.


End file.
